


infuriating pretty boys

by jilliancares



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 4/20, ;), Alternate Universe - College/University, Getting Together, Heyoooooo, M/M, Shotgunning, Smoking, Smut, Top Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:21:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23766049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jilliancares/pseuds/jilliancares
Summary: Lance doesn't show up to work on their project and Keith's pissed. He ends up going to Lance's dorm, probably to start a fight, but Lance just grins at him, talking as much as he always does, and offers him a joint.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 567





	infuriating pretty boys

**Author's Note:**

> this is a gift for @MarleyD1015 on twitter, prompted by @nanfoodle!!! happy 4/20 😎

It was 6 o’clock.

Now, normally, it being 6 o’clock didn’t hold any type of importance for Keith. It was the time most people ate dinner and about two hours before the time that Keith often realized he’d forgotten to eat dinner, resulting in him heating up a shitty pack of ramen in the wildly unpredictable dorm microwave, that in no way compared to the kind he could actually cook up on his own. Alas, it was cheap, and Keith was broke.

Six o’clock also happened to be precisely 45 minutes after his last class of the day. Considering that he had three separate classes on Mondays, each with an inconvenient amount of time spanning between them, reaching this momentous part of the day was nothing to sneeze at. It meant he got to go back to his dorm and change into his pajamas, seeing as he was unlikely to go anywhere after getting home (unless walking down the hall and glaring at the dangerously sputtering microwave counted as going somewhere, in which case, Keith got out most days).

But right now, Keith wasn’t sitting in his dorm in his pajamas. He wasn’t kicking back and watching a show after a long day of classes. He wasn’t even accidentally forgetting to eat dinner.

No, he was sitting in the stupid campus library, waiting for his stupid class-project partner, and he was absolutely furious.

Because Lance McClain was already 30 minutes late.

No offense, but Keith hadn’t exactly expected much from him for this group project. They were in a gen ed class together, and due to happenstance, they’d shared a couple of these seemingly pointless classes before. Keith knew from experience that Lance was loud, that he texted on his phone in class, and that he (probably) got shitty grades as a result.

They hadn’t gotten to choose their partners, mind you, so Keith had been absolutely pissed when he’d logged onto his email only to see that his professor had partnered him up with _Lance_.

Keith had realized right then and there that he was probably going to be doing all of the work if he wanted to actually get a good grade on their project. (Which he did. It made up 25% of their final grade.) But he’d at least expected for Lance to be _present_ while he did the work. For him to _pretend_ like he was contributing.

They’d agreed last Friday that they would meet here, in the library, at _6 o’clock_. And despite the time not meaning much to Keith in general, he was pretty fucking pissed that Lance hadn’t even bothered to shown up. Not only that, but he hadn’t been in their class earlier, either. Keith had assumed he was just skipping the class, but apparently he was skipping the entire day.

Furious, Keith whipped out his phone and opened Lance’s contact. They’d exchanged numbers last class and Lance had entered his name into Keith’s phone as _Lancey Lance_ followed by a bunch of emojis that Keith had never even seen before. The only text messages between them consisted of Keith sending his name to Lance’s number and Lance responding with finger gun emojis.

So.

 _Where the fuck are you_ , Keith typed out, and then erased, because somehow he had no trouble saying that in real life but it felt too incriminating over text. He settled on, _I thought we were meeting at 6?_ and set his phone down on the table, feeling another rush of irritation.

The reply came surprisingly quickly.

_yooooo omg im so sorry lol_

Keith glared at his phone, hoping the sentiment would send along with his text message.

_Where are you?_

And to that, Lance sent his location.

_Are you kidding? I thought we were meeting at the library._

_c’meeeeree_

Keith huffed, standing from his seat and shoving his things back into his bag. He pushed his chair in a little too hard, the wooden back smacking against the table, and a girl a couple seats down shot him an irritated glance. Keith paid her no mind as he stormed out of the library, deciding that he was going to rip Lance a knew one whenever he got to… wherever Lance was sending him.

He kept having to pull his phone out, continually checking Lance’s location as he gradually grew closer to his destination. Each time Keith thought he was probably there — first when he passed one of the campuses dining halls, and next when he passed one of the well-known lounges — he’d check his phone only to realize he wasn’t even close to Lance yet. Further off-putting, Lance hadn’t said anything after his last infuriating text. Keith still couldn’t believe he’d had the audacity to not only fail to show up, but to not even come and meet him after realizing he’d forgotten about their meeting.

Finally, the blue dot on Keith’s phone was lined up with Lance’s location. Except Keith was in front of a dorm building he’d never stepped foot in before.

Jesus Christ. He couldn’t believe Lance had had him come to his _dorm_.

_I’m at your dorm._

_ayyyeeee_

Keith huffed. Lance’s hall-mates were probably going to hear him when he started screaming at Lance.

_What’s your room number?_

_216_

Keith shoved open the door and turned immediately for the stairs, marching up them with a sense of purpose. He had about a million thoughts flying through his head, several half-formed arguments bursting at the seams of his mind, and Keith hadn’t cooled off even a little bit when he came to a stop in front of room 216.

He tried the handle. It was unlocked.

Keith let himself into Lance’s room, noticing before anything else the _smell_. Not like rotting food or garbage, but like _skunk_.

Second, he noticed that Lance was surprisingly clean. Much cleaner than Keith would’ve assumed, knowing what he does about him. But there weren’t even any clothes laying around and the desk that appeared to be Lance’s was tidy, little decorations lining the back of it and a few pictures hung above it.

And finally, he noticed Lance himself. Shirtless, his hair a mess, and sitting on his unmade bed, his laptop perched in his lap.

Keith closed the door behind him.

“No way,” Lance said, grinning at him over the top of his computer. He sat up, sliding his laptop to the side and grinning down at Keith from his bed. He was the kind of person who preferred it lofted, apparently. “You actually showed up.”

“I texted you that I was here,” Keith snapped. “And we agreed to do our project today.”

Lance flopped back into his pillows with a groan. “Let’s just chill,” he said.

Keith saw red.

“What did you make me walk all the way here for if you weren’t prepared to work?!”

“Honestly, I didn’t expect you to come,” Lance said idly, staring up at the ceiling.

“Unlike you, I care about our grade and actually show up to class.”

“Hey,” Lance said petulantly, pushing himself up on his arms. “I would’ve shown up today, but it’s a national holiday!”

“Everybody else was there,” Keith said, not believing him for a second.

“ _Everybody_ , Keith? Was _everybody_ really there? Or were your classes emptier than they usually are?”

Keith frowned, thinking about it. Looking back, his classes had been suspiciously low on attendance all throughout the day. But when was Lance ever right about something over Keith? Plus, it wasn’t a national holiday, Keith knew that for sure. If it were, they wouldn’t have had class at all.

He set his bag on Lance’s chair, figuring that he could at least work here, could at least pester Lance enough to feel like this trip had been worth it. But this close to Lance, he could see that his eyes look kind of bleary and red, almost as if he’d been crying.

But then Keith made a connection that took him honestly too long — _skunk room, national holiday, Lance’s demeanor in general_ — and he scoffed.

“Are you high right now?”

Lance laughed, his mouth stretching up into a lazy grin. “Took you long enough,” he said, twisting so that he could lean his back against the wall. He cocked his head to the side, blinking at Keith slowly as he observed him. “Did you seriously go to all of your classes today?”

Keith crossed his arms, feeling oddly vulnerable. He couldn’t help feeling like it was partially due to the fact that he was looking up at Lance like this. Normally, he couldn’t even notice the height difference between them, though he was well aware that Lance was actually an inch or two taller than him.

“Yeah,” Keith said. “I’m not trying to waste my money by skipping classes.”

“Look at you!” Lance said, sounding almost impressed. “You worked so hard today. You deserve a break.” And then he held up a joint, one that’d been resting on an ashtray that Keith hadn’t noticed, and he wiggled it enticingly.

Keith felt himself flush. He didn’t want to look like a prude by saying no. And some small part of him wanted to hit it, just to see what it was like. But he’d never actually smoked before, and he wasn’t sure whether this was the best time.

Didn’t people usually plan these things out before doing them? Or was this more accurate? The opportunity arising and people finding themselves agreeing because, well — why not?

But Keith bit his lip. “I don’t know…” he hedged.

“Dude, our project isn’t even due for another weak,” Lance said. “We can work on it this weekend. I promise I won’t blow you off again.”

Keith had to wonder if he really meant that. It’d be nice if Lance were actually an active participant for the project, because despite the fact that it was for a gen ed, those kinds of classes apparently tried to make up for their overall lack of importance with the most bullshit kinds of assignments. Keith had other things he’d rather be worrying about, and if he didn’t have to shoulder this project alone, it might actually benefit their grade.

He was almost surprised at how much he was thinking about this. Normally, he was much more impulsive. One summer, he’d decided that he’d wanted a motorcycle, and then he’d _built_ one. Out of scrap parts. Last semester, he’d decided he was sick of his major and just changed it one day, without much worry or overthinking on his part at all. Hell, he’d lost his virginity last year because some guy had winked at him at a party, and Keith had just decided to go for it.

He wasn’t the type to overthink things. He was the kind of person who jumped before being told how high.

And so, “Fine,” Keith ended up saying, and Lance grinned at him, patting the bed beside him. Keith eyed the space suspiciously, already wondering whether he should be regretting this, before toeing off his shoes and climbing onto the bed. Lance held onto the joint as Keith settled in next to him, keeping it from falling off the ashtray and burning the bed.

“I should probably tell you, I haven’t done this before,” Keith said.

“Shit, you’re letting me take your weed-ginity?” Lance said. Keith wanted to say that Lance smiled non-stop when he was high, but unfortunately, he was pretty sure that was just the usual for Lance in general.

“Never say that again,” Keith said.

“You know what to do?”

“Not really.”

“It’s easy,” Lance promised. “You just hit it and inhale. Keep breathing it in and hold it in your lungs for as long as you can. Breathe it out slowly and don’t cough, ‘cause if you start, you’re gonna cough a bunch.”

Keith wiped his hands on his pants, nervous. “Okay,” he said.

“You got this,” said Lance, and he passed Keith the joint. Keith, who’d only ever hit a Juul before, and that was because he’d been drunk and at a party and some stupid (but cute) frat boy had held it out to him and Keith hadn’t been able to think of a reason not to.

He held it up to his lips, trying to ignore the fact that Lance’s mouth had already been there — _indirect kissing_ , a stupid and childish part of his brain chimed in — and hit it. The back end of it burned red as Keith breathed it in. He could feel the thick smoke on his tongue, heavy in his lungs, and even after he pulled the joint away from his mouth he kept trying to inhale, following Lance’s instructions.

But then his lungs seemed to seize, rejecting the unexpected intrusion, and his throat convulsed.

“Don’t cough,” Lance warned him, just as Keith tried to blow it out too quickly and started coughing instead.

Lance was right — his throat didn’t seem likely to forgive him anytime soon. The first cough had been like opening the floodgates for the subsequent ones, and he distantly became aware of a hand patting him on the back.

Finally, Keith managed to catch his breath, and he sat back up, his eyes watering. His head felt a little fuzzy, but he was pretty sure that had more to do with the fact that he still couldn’t quite take a proper breath rather than anything to do with the weed.

“Sorry,” Keith said, coughing lightly immediately after speaking.

Lance shrugged. “I expected it, honestly,” he said. “Everyone coughs, their first time. Here, I’ll shotgun you.”

“What?” Keith said, but Lance already had the joint to his lips, and he was twisting to face Keith.

Keith just stared at him, not entirely comprehending as Lance inhaled the smoke. He set the joint on the ashtray and gestured at Keith incomprehensibly.

“What?” Keith repeated.

Lance rolled his eyes, scooting closer to Keith. And then he reached out, his thumb pulling down on Keith’s lower lip as he leaned in. Their faces were so close, Lance’s lips practically touching his, and then he started exhaling the smoke into Keith’s mouth. Keith breathed in it instinctively, the weight of it seeming less oppressive this time, and he closed his mouth and held it in after Lance pulled away.

Lance’s hand was still on his face and he was grinning again, because he was always grinning. “Keep holding it,” Lance instructed. “And then breathe it out, slowly.”

Keith managed to do just that, which was a feat, honestly, because he felt like he should be gasping for air with how quickly his heart was pounding. Truthfully, he’d thought about this before. Not _this_ , as in smoking a joint with Lance McClain, but this — as in being in bed with him. As in seeing Lance shirtless. As in having Lance’s hand on his face.

It was hard not to, when Lance was probably the most noticeable person Keith had ever met. He was loud and annoying, sure, but his jokes did tend to err on the side of funny, and he was wildly attractive when Keith wasn’t trying to kid himself.

Keith ended up smiling, feeling an odd sort of head rush once he’d breathed it all out, having managed to not cough.

“There you go,” Lance said, and his thumb brushed over Keith’s lip again, almost absent-mindedly, before he dropped his hand back to the bed. It was planted right behind Keith, and Lance didn’t move away, either. Their shoulders were pressed together and Lance didn’t seem to mind the contact any more than Keith did.

“So, tell me about your day,” Lance said, his eyes half-lidded as he looked at Keith.

Keith swallowed, trying to organize his thoughts before he responded. They felt more abstract than usual, and when he spoke, his mouth was slow to respond. He was pretty sure he was droning. “Well, first I went to our class, but you weren’t there,” Keith said.

“Right,” Lance said. “I was here. Probably jerkin’ it.”

Keith flushed, gaping at Lance, who snorted. “Continue,” he said, gesturing for Keith to go on.

“Then I had a three-hour break, so I got some work done in the library before getting lunch.”

“We love a responsible young man,” Lance said, leaning into him a little more heavily. He picked up the joint again, just holding it.

“Then I had my second class. I don’t know why I decided to take Spanish, but it’s too late to drop it now.”

“Oof, _no puedo ayudarle con eso_.”

Keith blinked at Lance. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t have understood what he was saying even if he weren’t high.

“And then I went to my last class before heading to the library to do our project.”

Lance hummed, raising the joint to his lips. He hit it while Keith was speaking, and after pulling it away, he raised his eyebrows questioningly. Keith nodded.

This time, Keith opened his mouth without waiting for Lance to open it for him. And this time, Lance closed the space between them entirely. His lips were on Keith’s and he was forcing the smoke into his mouth, into his lungs. Keith breathed the smoke out through his nose, his mouth otherwise occupied, moving against Lance’s.

Lance swiped his tongue into Keith’s mouth, and Keith felt his breath hitch in his chest when he pulled away.

“And then?” Lance said, leaning against him heavily now. The joint was back in the ashtray. And his hand was tracing patterns on Keith’s back. Keith had to think hard to remember what they’d been talking about.

“And you weren’t there,” Keith said. “I was pissed, and I texted you.”

“And then I told you to come over, thinking you’d tell me to fuck off,” Lance continued.

Keith nodded. “So I came over, thinking I was going to yell at you. And then we smoked. And then you kissed me.”

Lance grinned, looking for all the world like the Cheshire Cat. “I want to do it again,” he said. “Can I?”

Keith nodded, and then Lance’s hand was behind his neck, pulling him in. The kiss was leisurely, the buzz of their high slowing down their movements, but even still it was _intense_. Keith was finding it hard to breath, and Lance’s hands on his body felt like lava through his clothes.

“You’re really hot,” Lance mumbled. “I’ve thought that, like, forever.” He said it against Keith’s neck, his lips moving against the skin and his hands sliding down Keith’s back to cup his ass.

“I want to fuck you,” Keith said, his fingers twisting in Lance’s hair, and Lance moaned, his teeth dragging against Keith’s neck.

“Shit, yes, okay,” Lance said, pulling away. And then, “Hold this,” he added, picking up the joint. Keith held it, and feeling confident, took another small hit. Lance, meanwhile, was closing his discarded laptop and sliding off the bed. He then crossed the room to lock the door and riffled through one of the drawers on his desk on the way back, coming out triumphant with a bottle of lube in hand.

Lance reached up, taking the joint from Keith, and he set it on the ashtray before placing it on the windowsill. He clambered back onto the bed expertly. Keith was pretty sure he would’ve struggled to do the same in this state.

“I can’t help but notice that I’m already wearing less clothing than you,” Lance said, and so Keith reached down to pull his shirt off. Lance was already a step ahead of him, wiggling out of his sweatpants in order to throw them onto the floor. He dug the lube back out of the bed. “Would you like to do the honors?”

 _Yes_ , Keith thought, but what came out of his mouth was way less intelligible, because he was about to fuck Lance and his mind was already overwhelmed as it was. He wiggled out of the rest of his clothes as well before he took the bottle and popped open the cap, squirting a generous amount on his fingers and scooting in between Lance’s legs.

“You’re sure your roommate isn’t going to barge in, right?” Keith asked, probably way later than he should have. Lance laughed.

“Nah, Hunk’s got a shitty schedule. All his classes are in the evening this semester.”

Keith winced. He tried to get his classes over with earlier in the day, but he’d had evening classes before. He’d hated them.

“That sucks,” Keith said. “But good for us.” And with that, he reached between Lance’s legs, unable to look away from Lance’s face as he pressed a finger into him. Lance was already so relaxed, and part of Keith wanted to attribute it to the weed, but he felt like Lance might’ve just been like this naturally. He seemed like a go-with-the-flow kind of guy, and Keith could imagine fucking him sober, could imagine him being just as unabashed and flirty as he was now.

“Didn’t peg you for the careful sort,” Lance joked, his arms crossed behind his head.

“I’m savoring the moment,” Keith said.

“I’m honored,” Lance said, laughing. “But trust me, we can do this again in the future. If you’re down.”

Keith inserted a second finger, just to see that smug expression on his face change. “I’m down,” he promised. He kept working Lance open, scissoring his fingers, and at one point, Lance reached down toward the windowsill, and when his hand came back into view, he was holding the joint. He hit in, sucking in long and slow, just as Keith crooked his fingers inside of him.

Lance tensed, and then smoke burst out of his mouth as he started coughing. “Fuck,” he croaked. “Do that again.”

So Keith did, captivated by the sounds slipping past Lance’s lips. When he added a third finger, Lance’s eyebrows drew together and his mouth fell open, his hips grinding down on Keith’s hand.

“You’re good at this,” Lance said, his eyes peeling open. His gaze on Keith was hazy. “You finger yourself a lot?”

It was the kind of thing Keith would’ve blushed at if he weren’t high. Instead, he just pressed his fingers into Lance more sharply, digging into his prostate. “You talk a lot during sex,” Keith countered. “Are you only quiet when you’re sleeping?”

Lance laughed, and he extended the joint as he did so. “Hunk tells me that I sleep-talk, so I don’t think anything can stop me.”

Keith just grinned, finding that he didn’t actually mind. Maybe he’d just been annoyed by Lance so often because the people he was talking to were people other than Keith. Not that he would ever tell Lance that.

“You can fuck me now,” Lance said, and Keith was glad he hadn’t hit the blunt yet, because even though he was actively preparing Lance for his cock, hearing it said so plainly probably would’ve made him cough.

“You’re impatient,” Keith realized. “That’s why you complained about me going slow.” And then he hit the joint, watching Lance as he frowned, realizing that Keith had him found out.

“Weed makes me horny,” Lance said defensively. “I’ve been horny all day, and then I suddenly had a hot and willing guy in my dorm room. Sue me.”

Keith passed the blunt back and Lance reached toward the windowsill again, stubbing it out this time. His cock twitched when Keith pulled his fingers out of him, and he poured more lube into his hand and coated himself with it before lining up to Lance.

“Please,” Lance mumbled, looking at Keith through lidded eyes, and that was enough to convince him. He held his cock steady, his free hand gripping Lance’s hip, and then he pressed in, burying himself to the hilt. Lance was breathing heavier already, his head tilted back and his neck gleaming with sweat. Keith was pretty sure he could see his heartbeat at the base of his throat.

“Fuck,” Lance panted. “What are you packing? A whole foot long?”

Keith snorted, because only Lance would be able to say something so stupid and funny when someone was balls-deep inside of him, and Keith really, really wanted to shut him up. Wanted to prove that he could.

Keith’s body was lax and comfortable, every inch of him feeling heavier than usual, and on one hand, he could see himself have a nice, slow fuck. He could see himself leaning over Lance, looking into his eyes as he grinded into him, their orgasms blooming slowly but surely as their highs buzzed under their skin.

But Lance already looked wrecked, sweaty and desperate. He had to be higher than Keith — he’d definitely smoked before Keith had arrived — and Keith wanted to see him just lose the ability to speak. Wanted to make him moan, make his never-ending sentences turn into nonsensical gibberish.

So instead of leaning over Lance, Keith grabbed him by the hips. Instead of planting his arms on either side of his head, he dug his fingers into his waist, rising up to his knees as he pulled out only to thrust back in.

Lance made this noise in the back of his throat, as if he hadn’t been able to help himself. Keith, enraptured at the sight of him, started fucking him in earnest.

It was almost like an out-of-body experience. Lance was splayed out before him so beautifully, and in his mind eye, Keith could imagine himself kneeling between his legs, holding up his body as he fucked into him, hard and fast like Lance had wanted him to.

Lance was bouncing against the bed, his shoulder sliding back and forth over the sheets as his fingers scrabbled for something to grip, ending up with handfuls of the comforter underneath him. His pillow slid out from under his head and fell off the bed, but Lance either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He was just moaning, all _yes_ and _Keith_ and _please_ and _fuck_.

Keith didn’t think he’d have been able to last this long, with the tight hot pressure of Lance surrounding him, had it not been for the weed. It’d dulled his senses, in a way, but it made everything so intense in a completely different way, and Keith could feel his orgasm coming on from a distance, rather than the abrupt forewarning the he usually received.

“God, Keith, fuck!” Lance panted. His face was flushed, the color having bloomed on his chest and risen up his neck, into his face, and he seemed almost out of it with pleasure. His efforts were doing nothing to hold him in place, and with every movement they seemed to inch a little bit closer to the wall.

Lance must’ve realized this as well, because moments before Keith could stop and drag the two of them back down the bed, Lance reached up and braced his hands against the tiles, providing some resistance as Keith fucked into him. And like that, Keith could fuck him harder, faster, and he was pounding into Lance’s prostate and Lance’s mouth was moving but no sound was coming out, just these little gasps and moans, these grunts of pleasure that couldn’t form into anything more.

And that was exactly what Keith had wanted. The sight of Lance, sweaty and unable to shape any words with his mouth, pushed Keith to the edge. He grabbed Lance’s cock, stroking it quickly, and Lance cried out, arching into Keith’s hand before slamming back down onto his cock, as if his body couldn’t decide which pleasure to chase.

His cock twitched in Keith’s hand and then he was spilling all over himself, high-pitched gasps escaping him as Keith fucked into him, his pace becoming unsteady as he, too, started to cum, grunting with his release.

Lance just laid there, his chest rising and falling quickly once Keith carefully pulled out, setting Lance’s hips back onto the bed. He felt dizzy and high, which he could probably attribute to the weed, but he felt like Lance played just as big of a part.

He sat there for a moment, not entirely sure what to do with himself, but Lance reached out a hand, and he opened and closed it a few times, making grabby fingers at Keith. “Cuddle me,” he demanded.

Keith huffed out a laugh, sliding along the bed — which, really, wasn’t suited for two people at all — but he pressed himself up against Lance, making room. And Lance threw his arm over Keith’s waist, trapping him there.

“I’m so glad I didn’t meet you at the library,” he said, peeking up at Keith.

“Surprisingly, I’m glad too,” Keith said, tracing his fingers over Lance’s hip. “You still have to help me with the project this weekend, though.”

Lance snorted. “We can do it here,” he suggested. “And I’ll try my best not to distract us.”

“Don’t distract us and you can get a reward,” Keith countered. Lance smiled, his eyes closed now.

“That sounds nice,” he said. “You know, I’ve thought about fucking you, like, a thousand times.”

“Really?”

“Oh, for sure,” Lance said. “And I’d tell you that even if I wasn’t high, you know.”

“Somehow, I believe you.”

“I don’t know if you remember, but we had that lit class together last year,” Lance continued.

“I remember,” Keith said, because how could he forget? Lance had sat behind him and talked to his seatmate practically throughout the entire class. Keith had wanted to strangle him.

“I tried so hard to get your attention in that class,” Lance murmured. “One time, you laughed at something I said when you were pretending you weren’t listening. I thought about that for the rest of the day.”

“I thought about you, too,” Keith said. He’d wasted a lot of brainpower on that pretty boy. That loud, obnoxious pretty boy. That funny and scarily witty pretty boy. That stupid, infuriating pretty boy, who always seemed to be on the edge of Keith’s consciousness, only ever a moment away from invading his thoughts.

“Bet I’ll be on your mind a lot more often, now,” Lance said, sounding cocky. “Also, you better set your alarm. We’re not going to want to be naked when Hunk gets back.”

Keith forwent the alarm entirely. He stood up and put on his pants right that instant, because there was no way in hell he was letting Lance’s roommate walk in on him like that. Lance didn’t seem in quite the same rush as him, though. He just laid there on his bed and laughed and laughed and laughed.


End file.
